Page 79 of Elijah’s Whim

We both passed out after that. Hannah—wrung out from stress, orgasms, and the little bit of champagne she drank—tipped over the edge into solid, nightmare-less sleep for once.

I was simply exhausted. Travel always wore me out. No matter what condition I was in physically, how well I ate, and how I managed my stress, I never slept well away from home. With the sexy, snuggly blonde in my arms, I too slept like I hadn’t in weeks.

We both had to be into work early the next morning, so when the alarm on Hannah’s phone went off, as much as we both grumbled, I pushed her toward the shower. Of course, I gave her body a thorough inspection first, making sure she wasn’t too sore. The scratches I had left on her spine last night were long since faded.

My cell phone rang while she was still in the shower, and thinking it a bit early for a phone call, I scooped it up and checked the caller ID. It was Marc, the lead security guard pulling the overnight shift at the house.

“Hey, man,” I said, my voice still rough from sleep. “A little early, no? Everything okay? The Mrs. having the baby?” I remembered Hannah telling me that bit of news while talking and hoped that was the reason for the call. Better that than something shitty happening at the house.

He chuckled, and I thought that was a good sign. “No, no. She’s still not dilated. So, she’s frustrated as hell, but no baby yet.”

“Just miss me, then?”

“I’m sorry to bother you so early, and I wish I wasn’t calling with shitty information.”

“Spit it out, man.”

“Ms. Farsey’s car has been vandalized.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, man.”

“What happened to it?”

“Someone spray-painted on it.”

“Oh no, you’re kidding. Gang shit? Graffiti?”

“No, this looks personal. It says, ‘You’ll pay, bitch.’”

“Did you pull the tapes? Can you see who it was?”

“No. Last night, when Lorenzo got back from dropping you off at the hotel, we moved her car onto the street. The smaller SUV is having the brakes done today, so we had to shuffle spots in the garage.”

“Goddammit.”

“Do you want me to call the police?”

“Well, let me talk to Hannah and see if she can get off work. She’s going to have to file the report since it’s her car.”

“All right, I’ll wait to hear from you.”

I hung up with Marc just as Hannah came out of the bathroom with her phone to her ear. She was listening to someone talking on the other end of the call, and all the color was drained from her face.

In a flash, I was by her side. She looked like she was going to hit the deck if she didn’t sit down. She let her arm fall slack by her side, and her phone clattered to the ground.

“Hey, hey. What’s going on? Who’s on the phone?”

But she didn’t reply. She just stared off into the middle distance.

“Hannah!” That made her jump, but at least she snapped out of it.

“They’re out,” she mumbled and looked at me with giant childlike eyes.

“What? Who? Who’s out?” I demanded.

“The Trasks. The couple who tried to kidnap me when I was a child. I had a voicemail from my dad. He got a call from our attorney because I have to be alerted anytime they have a parole hearing.” She looked at me, and her eyes were filled with tears. They started spilling over onto her paper-white cheeks.